


Gossip and Anger

by UnknownSatellite84



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angry Sex, Atlas CEO Rhys, Attempt at Humor, Desperation, Dildos, Explicit Sexual Content, Fight Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn, Rivals, Sassy Rhys (Borderlands), Simultaneous Orgasm, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownSatellite84/pseuds/UnknownSatellite84
Summary: After years of putting up with Jack's bullshit, Rhys is fed up. Jack's latest lies to the press lead to absurd confrontations...and much more, as they realize what they really want. They aren't going to make it easy on each other, though.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Gossip and Anger

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a silly conversation on a rhack discord. Also I've been struggling to write, so decided this would be a good way to get back into it - by doing a silly one shot. On that note, I did not edit this as deeply as I normally do.

Rhys walked to the press conference. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking lightly as he passed the doors. These were always at least mildly entertaining. His eyes flitted around the room to find the public meeting underway. Although fashionably late, he hadn't planned it that way. He’d spilled coffee and needed to tidy up before arriving. 

Being a CEO wasn’t as easy as _some_ pretended. _Some_ would probably go to a meeting with coffee stains. _Some_ were insane.

He heard Handsome Jack talking into the microphone, answering questions directed his way. Rhys quietly took his spot in the next podium over, leaving the scene uninterrupted. There were some important questions being asked, and that was good. But Rhys frowned when he noticed the gossip column from Hyperion-Inquiry? Or _Hyperquiry_ , some called it. They could twist words to their whims and tended to be obsessed more with gossip than facts.

Normally, even Jack didn’t want to screw with them. He must be planning something evil.

And unfortunately, they got around to Jack, so Rhys was about to find out.

“Handsome Jack, Sir, is it true that tensions between you and the Atlas CEO are on the rise? What do you foresee for the future?”

“Oh, not at all. In fact, I soon expect Atlas will sign their entire company over to me… I mean, didn’t you know? Mr. Rhys and I- well, we totally boned. And he is _in love_ with me. Isn’t that right, baby?”

The audience started up a wild and intense chatter. Rhys’s hand stopped tapping against the podium impatiently. Rhys glanced sidelong at Jack. A million thoughts ran through his head. Foremost, was _what_? WHAT? Jack grinned back at him. 

Rhys stifled a chuckle. Oh, okay. He got it. That’s how Jack wanted to play this? He was game.

“Mr. Rhys, can you confirm this?” A wild-eyed reporter asked. Rhys could already see how much they loved this.

Rhys wasn’t a fool. Jack probably expected him to deny it and incriminate himself.

“Oh, is that what it was, Jack?” Rhys said loudly for all to hear. “Boning? I thought we were _napping_ , honestly. But I guess that’s because you have an absolute shrimp between your legs. Or maybe it's the fact you have the enthusiasm of a cold corpse. So, I suppose yeah, we uh, _totally boned_.”

Jack’s eyes darkened with rage, fists clenching, knuckles white.

Rhys couldn’t stop, though. He smugly looked at the reporter. “Negative ten out of ten. It was _inadequate_ to say the least. I’ve had better at low town skeevy clubs. Total meh over this one. Do not recommend it.”

The crowd was absolutely going mad, howling, laughing, yelling, and Jack’s vicious face indicated he would be perfectly happy to strangle Rhys on stage. In fact, he took a step towards Rhys’s podium, hands flexing. Rhys subconsciously stepped back.

Rhys said, “soooo, on that note, Atlas will _not_ be signing away it’s rights to Hyperion, uh… I have to uh-” Rhys activated his emergency ‘I need to gracefully escape this situation button’, which sent a false alarm call through his arm for all to hear. “Oh I have to take this. Thanks for attending!” Rhys hurried off the stage, pretending to take the call, leaving the audience and Jack behind. He was thankful for his shield, in case Jack tried to shoot him on the way out.

* * *

Three weeks later, there was a corporate meeting Rhys was dreading. A small one with Handsome Jack himself. Rhys wasn’t clear on what the meeting was about. The secretary had said, but he’d sort of zoned out when the words “Handsome” and “Jack” were spoken. He let out a sigh, considering canceling. His pride wouldn’t let him. When the time came, he allowed the guards to buzz Handsome Jack in. 

Rhys warily watched the man approach his desk, ready for any attempts on his life. He could never be sure with Jack. He admired the man in many ways, but he was under no impression that Jack would ever make his life easy.

Jack stood in front of the desk. “Atlas.”

“Hyperion.” Rhys cleared his throat, holding a calm demeanor. “So this is a follow up from…” Rhys once again strained to remember what his secretary had said and failed. “What do you want?”

“Came to bring you some briefing files, _personally_ ,” Jack said, an ornery grin on his face. That never meant anything good. 

Rhys tilted his head. “You literally could’ve emailed them- oh fuck this is a setup, isn’t it?” Rhys stood, angry. “What’s going on?”

“Calm your tits, buttercup, I just wanted to get your sign-off on that little joint project, personally. You remember the Hyperion-Atlas gun right? Trying to combine the tracker with the stability adjusters?”

“Oh, that,” Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. Honestly, it had been a small enough side project he didn’t think Jack had cared. Rhys had been putting off giving it the green light, not trusting Hyperion for it. But he was curious. Even more so now that Jack had come in person. “Yeah, I can do that,” he said, locking their gazes. He wanted to see how this played out.

Jack tossed a file at Rhys, who caught it. Rhys examined it with his Echo Eye and detected no foul play. Curious. It was, however, a contract. “Fine.” He signed. He sat the file to the side.

Jack spoke, “also, this _is_ a setup.”

Rhys braced himself, expecting a gun to come out, or Jack to fly over the desk and wrap strong hands around his neck. But what actually happened, was more even more bewildering. Jack reached down to his pants and unzipped them. Without a word, his cock was free. Jack shifted and it thunked onto Rhys’s desk, which left Rhys both deliciously horrified and overly fascinated. He was so glad that years of corporate life kept his expression schooled into calm disbelief.

“What are you doing?” Rhys asked in a level tone, forcing himself to hold Jack’s gaze, even as his eyes wanted to drop. Desperately so. 

“Shrimp, eh?” Jack said, brow furrowed. His hands planted on his hips.

 _Oh my god,_ Rhys thought. “This is sooo _unnecessary_.” 

“Yeah, well, you made it necessary. Get a good look, Rhysie. And think before you speak next time.” Jack motioned towards...himself.

Rhys lowered his gaze to the dick. “Okay.”

Rhys got a terrible idea he couldn't let go. He grabbed a ruler from his desk. Jack scoffed, loudly. Rhys got to work.

“Seven and a half inches,” Rhys announced.

“ _Unerect_ ,” Jack growled. 

Rhys leaned dramatically closer to observe it, narrowing his eyes. “Hmmm.”

He glanced up quickly to see Jack’s irritated face again. He couldn’t stop his grin. This was priceless. He was going to treasure this moment for a long time…on _many_ nights. Of course, Rhys had done his research, and he’d never believed Jack’s dick was a shrimp. If Jack could lie to those idiots, so could Rhys. But now Rhys knew exactly what the real thing looked like.

This was also _hilarious_. Rhys wondered how long Jack had been planning this. How long had Jack decided throwing his dick on Rhys’s desk was a great revenge plan? He really felt the need to prove himself, didn’t he? Rhys subtly activated his Echo Eye, making sure to record this on-display-dong from every angle. He quietly powered it down and leaned back.

“Fine, it’s not a shrimp,” Rhys said, folding his arms. “But I can’t reassess anything else that I said. I doubt it does much without Engorge anyway.” He almost asked Jack to prove that part. But he quickly realized how that line of teasing could spiral into something...far worse. 

Jack bared his teeth. He tucked himself away, zipping up. “I’m going to leave before I do something we both regret.”

“You mean you haven’t already?” Rhys quipped before he could stop it.

Jack grabbed him by the collar. They were nose to nose. Rhys thought maybe he should be scared at this point. The grip tightened, and Rhys’s hands went to Jack’s wrists. “You fuckin’ sassy brat,” Jack grumbled. Rhys was about to fight back when Jack shoved Rhys away. “I’m trying _really_ hard here, cupcake. I’d almost think you wanted to get my wrath, at this rate.” Jack turned and stormed out.

Rhys should probably be more cautious, but all he felt was amusement now. He smirked, thinking of his footage. He knew that he couldn’t use what had transpired as blackmail. Jack had started the rumors, after all, and the footage would just incriminate Rhys. But he could still gain something from that weird literal dick-measuring that’d occurred. 

On promises on their life, he set R&D on a top-secret project.

When it was finished, Rhys had a fully functioning, vibrating dildo - a decent replica of a _certain somebody’s_ dick. They’d had to take some liberties for the erect look, but it was close enough, the head shape perfect. Jack’s stupid wrist tattoo design had been printed on the bottom for a fun twist.

Rhys took it home excitedly, eager to break it in

* * *

A few more weeks passed. 

Hyperion screwed up the early gun designs, and Rhys wound up more disappointed than he wanted to admit. One of his employees had died from an argument that'd broken out between the teams, shoved into a nearby skag pit. The report landed on his desk on a soggy Monday. Rhys immediately canceled the project, wishing he hadn't wasted these resources.

Jack became even more cranky towards Rhys, and their conversations dissolved into outright arguments. Twice, they’d been a few seconds from an ugly catfight. Rhys was honestly surprised he was still alive. He knew better (in Jack’s opinion, not his) men had gotten worse for the things he’d said to Jack, and yet, Jack had let him walk away every time. Perhaps even Jack knew he couldn’t just take Atlas that easily. The people here wouldn’t stand for it. It was the only reason Rhys could fathom.

Rhys returned home after one such encounter with Jack, who was still very pissed over the cancelation, simmering over like a boiling kettle. He yanked off his coat and flung it in the corner of the living room. He wanted to hit something, but he thought of a better way to blow off the steam. Eyeing his low, empty coffee table - it would be perfect - he took off his shoes. He went to his bedroom, grabbed his new favorite dildo, and came back.

He pulled off his pants and underwear, leaving his shirt on. He suctioned the dildo firmly to the surface of the coffee table. He got some lube and stretched himself, not that he needed much. He used this almost every night. He slathered some of the lube on the toy. He positioned himself and lowered onto it, groaning, filled. He gritted his teeth and imagined punching Jack’s stupid face. He rode the toy angrily, the burn in his thighs singeing away the frustrations, pleasure starting to fill his body.

The door opened.

And Jack strolled in. “I swear to god, Rhys! You idiot-!”

Rhys shrieked, falling off the table and crashing to the floor. He scrambled. “HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!”

“You left it open, so I- hold up...Is that…wait a MINUTE-”

Rhys had made an attempt to cover his lower half, but he forgot his toy. Forgot that it was on display on the coffee table. Jack stared at it with something like a horrified realization on his face that turned to manic amusement. “Ohhhh my god, you lying little, horny _bitch_!”

Rhys probably should’ve been more terrified when Jack came towards him, expression dark, but in a split second, he noticed an unmistakeable boner, and he hissed. “YOU started this bullshit when you said we slept together! I’m starting to think you wanted it to be true! OR did you come for another demonstration on your supposed potency!?”

“Well, I’m gonna finish the hell out of it! As if I want the likes of you, but I know you want _me_. You want Jack, you’ll _get_ him!”

Jack lunged at Rhys, and Rhys scooted away, but he was cornered against the nearby couch. He kicked up, hard, landing a hit in Jack’s sternum. Jack gripped his stomach, grimacing. Well, this catfight was bound to happen. It’d been building for a while now. Figures it had to happen while Rhys was half-naked. Jack grabbed the lapels of Rhys’s shirt and Rhys punched him for it. Jack hissed but didn’t let go. He spun Rhys violently and pinned him against the couch. Rhys used the momentum to spill them both sideways, crashing through the coffee table. 

Rhys had liked that coffee table. Oh well. Hopefully, his toy was okay.

Jack had landed on his back with an “ _oof_ !”, and Rhys leapt onto him, cyber arm pressing down against Jack's neck. Jack’s hands clawed at his sides, and somehow, it felt kind of _good_ even as it surely left a mark. Rhys, grinning, rolled his hips against Jack's hard crotch. Jack's teeth bared. He recovered and bucked, throwing Rhys off balance. Something hard slammed into Rhys’s ribs. A piece of wood. He winced, doubling over to try and catch his breath.

Jack snapped, "Don't touch my frickin' boner while we fight!"

"You're absolutely ridic-"

Jack’s hand gripped his throat, and Rhys coughed. Jack flung him like a rag. Rhys landed face down into the couch again. Rhys struggled futilely, hands scrabbling, a heavy weight pinning him.

Jack hissed, “I don’t want you fuckin’ _lying_ to me, Rhysie. I'm through playing games.”

Jack rolled his hips against Rhys. Rhys strained back, but it was hard to tell if he was actually trying to throw Jack off this time. "I thought you didn't want it touched!"

“Don’t you want it?!” Jack demanded.

Rhys managed to get his mouth free from the couch. He'd never been so confused in his life. “Fuck off!”

“That’s not a fricken _answer_ , baby.”

Rhys heard a zipper. “Asshole!” He growled. His hands were shakey with adrenaline and anticipation, and warmth was blooming in his stomach. He realized his own dick was very hard. The larger part of his mind wanted to ask Jack for more. “Jack-!” 

Jack's grip shifted, unforgiving. “First you publicly insult me. And then you insult me to my face. You cancel _our_ project. You fuck a fake of _my_ dick. And _I’m_ the asshole?!” Jack laughed. “I mean, sure I ain’t no one’s saint-”

“You put it on display, so yeah, I made a fake of it! Maybe you’ll keep it zipped up next time! Unlike now! And your project got my people killed!”

“We had a frickin’ contract, you can’t just back out of it!”

“Well, I did. You guaranteed there’d be no great losses, but-” 

Jack’s unmistakable cock ground against Rhys’s ass. “Admit you want it. You literally were just riding the fake thing.”

Rhys bit his lip and squirmed. Everything was jumbled up in his head, and he didn’t have time, didn’t have time to think of the implications of this, whether his fantasies mattered now, what consequences would come of it. He didn’t want to think, though. And though he wanted Jack very much, he didn’t want to admit it. Rhys, however, made no attempt to escape, even though he probably should’ve. He pushed back up against Jack.

“Fine, if that’s how you wanna play it, princess,” Jack grunted. “Sue me for it later.”

“Did you want me?” Rhys breathed, eyes widening. "All along?"

By way of reply, Jack's dick sank into him. Rhys moaned, forgetting everything. He clawed the couch, desperately sucking air into his lungs. Jack’s thrust was smooth and easy, considering Rhys was already lubed and stretched. Jack’s cock filled him, warm and pulsing in a way the dildo never could. Rhys clenched around Jack, and moaned. He rolled his hips back, feeling Jack.

“Yeah, there you go,” Jack chuckled.

“Shit,” Rhys hissed, “shit-shit-shit-” 

“God, you have a dirty mouth. Hope you ain’t kissing anyone with it.” Jack thrusted to meet his next movement.

“Ah, _fuck-_ ” Rhys whined. “Fuck- Fuck you! Jack-”

“Maybe the next conference you’ll be nicer, too, considering how I’m just giving you the dicking of your dreams for free,” Jack growled. “Ahhhh, jeezus, kiddo.” He moved harder, like an animal seeking its needs, forgetting Rhys’s own. 

Rhys shivered.

He felt Jack’s grip loosening as the pleasure grew. 

Rhys flipped them on the couch, temporarily losing Jack’s dick. “Rhys-” Jack complained.

“Jack-” he whispered, voice hoarse. He straddled Jack. Jack’s cock looked even fuller and larger than the dildo, but that was okay with him. He sank back onto the thick, throbbing cock, toes curling. Rhys seated in Jack’s lap, watching the Hyperion CEO’s expression glaze over. 

“Tell me, Jack,” Rhys said, wiggling his hips. “This what you want? All along? Me bouncing on your cock?” He was breathless, exhilarated.

“Fricki- Come on!”

“Why should I do anything for you? You haven’t been nice to me even once!”

“Fine. Yes, I want this. Ever since I saw your pretty, tight ass. Pretty fucking please with goddamned cherries on top.”

“Mine’s already popped sadly, but I’ll give you an experience to break your damned mind.”

Rhys, remembering his earlier frustrations, gripped Jack’s shoulders with bruising force and smashed their lips together. At the same time, he began bouncing his hips. He chewed Jack’s lips, surprised how soft the mask material was, but didn’t let it distract him. Jack bit back. Or tried to. Rhys pulled his lip, leaving a temporary indent with his teeth. He let go.

“Now I’m kissing _someone_.”

Jack began to throw his hips up into Rhys, and Rhys let out an uncontrolled whine as it hit deep and perfect each time. He felt like he was melting and his legs were shaking out of control. He tugged on Jack’s hair. “Flip- come on- please-”

Jack grunted and rolled them back over, only Rhys was facing him this time. He pinned Rhys’s wrists down, Rhys’s legs wrapping around his waist. Jack fucked into him, fast and certain. Rhys pressed back up against his hands to feel the restraint. Rhys thought he must’ve been using all his weight. He half wondered if they’d break the couch. He closed his eyes, realizing he was crying out with each thrust, and Jack’s groans rang through his ears, high and needy. 

Rhys got his cyber arm free with a mighty wrench and turned on its vibrate function. He wrapped it around his cock.

With some crazy-ass luck, the two men came at the same time. Jack slammed deep and filled him. Rhys spilled onto his own skewed shirt an impressive amount of cum. But even better was the pleasure coursing through him in waves that left him dizzy, heart thudding in his chest. The moment passed. They stayed locked together, panting.

After a minute, Rhys pushed Jack off, grimacing at the feel of cum leaking down his legs. _Should’ve gotten this idiot a condom, at least._

“What if I guarantee no more deaths?” Jack asked.

“Wha-?” 

“On our project.”

“Fine. One more time, Hyperion. One more chance. That’s it.”

“S’all I need, baby.”

Their eyes met, and Jack gripped Rhys’s head and pulled him into another kiss, softer than the last.


End file.
